


No use crying over...

by freyjawriter24



Series: Writing prompts and challenges [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, Shadwell coming up with names for his invented colleagues in the Witchfinder Army, Witchfinder Major Milkbottle - Freeform, and conning a random stranger in the process, i mean it's one pint of milk. what could it cost - 10 pounds?, witchfinder army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: It's tough work, running an entire Witchfinder Army. Especially coming up with names for your imaginary recruits.***Written for the GO Events server's Name That Author Round 9 prompt 'milkbottle'. The challenge required a fic to be 500 words or fewer.
Series: Writing prompts and challenges [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805341
Kudos: 11
Collections: GO-events NTA #9 - Milkbottle After Dark





	No use crying over...

Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell drummed his fingers on the table, thinking.

It wasn’t a common pastime for him. Usually he was a get-things-done kind of man, the practical sort. Pick a lock, empty a till, scrounge a pint. Straightforward stuff. None of this _planning_ lark. Long-term fraud was harder than it looked.

He glanced up, searching the room for inspiration. His eyes fell on the kitchen counter.

Tin, that was a good one. Solid, trustworthy name, Tin. Believable.

He noted it down in his ledger.

What else? Oh, _Smith_ , of course – no, he’d already used that. Twice. Bugger.

The door downstairs went. Shadwell ignored it. It wouldn’t be for him, anyway.

_Names, names, names..._

It rang again. The Witchfinder rolled his eyes. The hair dryer was going across the hall, which meant _that_ witch hadn’t heard the door. He sighed, then finally went to get it.

“Err, hi, sorry, hello!” the stranger at the door greeted over a large pile of files in his arms. “Terribly sorry, just knocked over your milk.”

Shadwell glanced at the white puddle slowly running down the pavement, then fixed the stranger with a steely glare.

“It was an accident, promise!” the man squeaked. “I just wanted to let you know, didn’t want to do any sort of hit-and-run nonsense.”

Shadwell was about to grumble _do I look like someone who drinks milk?_ Then he paused.

“What’s your name?”

“Alex, sir. Alex Smith.”

“Well that’s no use, is it?”

“Excuse me?”

Shadwell looked Alex up and down.

_Smartly dressed. City type. Hmm. Probably worth a try._

“What’s the point apologising if you ain’t gonna do anything about it?”

“Uhh...” The man looked around as if hoping a corner shop would spring into being next door. “I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. Could I come back later?”

“Later? And what’s the poor missus going to do wi’out her morning tea?”

Alex glanced down at the smashed milk – at the second, unharmed bottle beside the remains of the first – and then back up. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it, and shifted what he was carrying to reach into his pocket.

“I’ve got cash somewhere,” he said quickly. “Uhh... How much does a pint of milk cost these days?”

At the jangle of coins, Shadwell sneered. “Where do you think you’re living, mate? This is London.”

“Oh, well, uh...” The man pulled out his wallet and manipulated it sideways, one-handed. _Huh. He’d make a good lock pick._ “Would a fiver do it?”

“Call it double, for me having to clear up the mess.”

“Right.” Alex fumbled, then presented a tenner to Shadwell.

“Pleasure doing business with you, laddie.” He turned to go.

“Don’t forget your other milkbottle!” Alex called after him.

The Witchfinder paused. “Milkbottle.” He bent and fished the bottle from the remains of its shattered comrade. “Milkbottle.” He swung the door shut behind him and mounted the stairs, staring in awe at his newfound treasure. “ _Milkbottle_.”

It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut a fair bit to get this one down to 500 words, so there's a chance I might eventually neaten it up, finish it off, and post a longer version at some point. If I do, it'll be as a Chapter 2 to this fic, so do subscribe if you'd be interested in reading that!


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